


Thirst

by Fritillary



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:25:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritillary/pseuds/Fritillary
Summary: Sitting in state at the very table of the gods, Tantalus gazed at the feast laid out in splendour before him.A close re-telling of the classical myth.





	Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from Livejournal, originally written 22/Nov/2008.  
> A close retelling of the Tantalus myth. Prompt: #131 - Gargantuan (picture of child 'pushing' huge boulder) [@tamingthemuse] which reminded me that I hadn't finished this. greek myth = tenuous link

King Tantalus stared down from the white tower of his palace at the newly built walls of his city, and smiled. Sipylus, they had called it, in honour his grandfather, and every able-bodied-man had done his fair share of the work to make their new home as strong and indestructible as it was beautiful; each two-tonne stone that made up the walls' base carved from shining white granite. The new king of Lydia had praised his people for their hard work, and now, as the sun rose over the Aegean Sea and the city climbing the mountainside gleamed in its light, his pride in the achievement knew no bounds.

The gentle clink of fine china roused Tantalus from his day dreams, and the young king turned, just in time to watch his wife emerge through the sheer silk curtains that separated the balcony on which he stood from the main chamber within. But to his surprise, instead of embracing him as she usually did when they rose in the morning, the beautiful lady Dione stepped quietly to one side of the entrance and stood demurely with her eyes lowered. Worried, Tantalus took a step toward her, but before he could speak, a second figure strode through the curtains and gave the King a sweeping bow.

“King Tantalus of Lydia," said the young man as he straightened, "We have heard the praise of your people for your courageous leadership, your wise counsel and your cunning in battle. They pray that you are rewarded for all that you have done for the kingdom of Lydia, and We shall recognise this wish."

A lifetime of leading had taught Tantalus to appear in control at all times, but even he could barely keep himself from gaping, for before him stood no mortal being, but Hermes himself, the messenger of the Olympian Gods. The golden-haired young man beamed cheerfully and bounced from one sandal-shod foot to the other.

"You are summoned, King Tantalus, to the halls of Olympus." There was no greater honour in the history of men than to be invited to dine at the table of the Gods, and Tantalus of Lydia, beloved by his people, had at last been recognised. Hermes extended one hand to the young king and, without a second thought; Tantalus grasped the offered fingers firmly. The messenger, delighted at being the bearer of good tidings for once, smiled even more broadly that Tantalus had thought possible, wrapped his arm around the mortal's waist, and, without warning, leapt gracefully over the balcony wall, into the air. Tantalus gasped in fright and clung tightly to the god's tunic as the messenger's winged sandals swept them both up into the sky.

 

 

Sitting in state at the very table of the gods, Tantalus gazed at the feast laid out in splendour before him; each dish perfection as befitted the gods. Once he had eaten his fill of the food, he was actually rather thankful that most of the gods - after their initial attention - had moved on to other things. The rosy-cheeked Dionysus had already filled his gut with the heady wine (Tantalus had noticed with some awe that the god's cup magically refilled itself immediately once the last drop was drained) and was now slumped over onto the lap of his wife, Ariadne, whose long thin fingers combed affectionately through his hair as he slept.

Demeter, who had arrived late to the gathering on account of her missing daughter, had finally ceased her sobbing and was being comforted by the beautiful Aphrodite at the far end of the table. The dark god Hades, being the reason for young Persephone’s sudden disappearance, was not present at all, much to the distress of Demeter and the annoyance of his brothers. The remaining seven Olympian gods and their consorts were mostly engaged in conversation over their cups while their chief, Zeus, surveyed the scene with a proprietary air. The chief of the gods lounged in his throne at the head of the table; one leg draped over the armrest, his chin propped up on his left palm while the circlet of polished gold nestled in his hair glowed with light. Tantalus became a little blinded by his majesty and glanced away when the god's eyes moved in his direction.

As the food was slowly cleared from the plates, Zeus stirred. Rising elegantly from his throne by the head of the table, the king of the gods reached over to a nearby side table and lifted up a tall thin decanter, on a tray, surrounded by many ornately etched glasses. From the base of the tray four thin metal bars rose up around the decanter and merged to form a ring about the stopper, holding it firmly in place *. A single tap of the god's finger caused the inscribed ring to vanish and Zeus plucked out both the bottle and the stopper, and tilted it to the rim of the first glass.

Tantalus realised that the great hall, from the white, ivy-bound pillars, to the cloud-riven ceiling far above, had fallen silent. All eyes were watching as Zeus leisurely poured a measure of the crystal clear liquid into every glass. As each glass was filled, the child Ganymede, who had remained seated on the steps at Zeus' feet for the duration of the meal, carefully took it and placed it before an Olympian god or goddess. Once they all had a share, Zeus, to the watcher's surprise, did not put down the decanter, but plucked another glass from the air and filled it to the brim. Ganymede carried it down the length of the hall to Tantalus's seat and set the glass on the table with a shy smile.

Tantalus tore his gaze from the sparkling liquid to meet the Sky Lord's amused smile. Zeus' eyes glittered as brilliantly as the gold that adorned his throat and fingers, and, awed by this apparent gift from the most proud of all the gods, Tantalus' mouth turned as dry as the Syrian Desert and he could not speak a word.

"Take up your cups," Zeus commanded in a voice well used to authority, and every deity's hand reached forward. "Today, the wishes of the sipylenes are granted; their beloved king dines with us, and is given the gift of ambrosia, so that he may rule wisely for as long as his city shall stand." A herald of agreement met this proposal. The glasses, Tantalus' with them, were raised and the mortal king sipped his first taste of immortality. A sip was at first all he could bear; the heady perfume rising from the glass almost overwhelmed him while the sun itself appeared to explode behind his eyelids as the deathless elixir suffused every cell in his body. Gasping quietly to himself in wonder - awed by the honour he had been granted and dazed by the ambrosia's power - Tantalus simply clasped the tiny chalice in his lap and let the slightly viscous liquid swirl round, catching the light, while the gods returned to their toasts and carousing.

Feeling rather out of place, Tantalus let his mind drift to those he felt more in his league. He thought of his people, his gentle Queen and most of all, his beloved son and heir, Pelops. Wistfully, Tantalus imagined they could share this bounty and fortune with him, but he knew in his heart that the likelihood of the gods - even ones as spontaneously generous as Zeus - granting immortality to all his kin was very low indeed. But as he daydreamed, Tantalus was struck with an idea; an idea so wonderful and yet so dangerous that it made him shudder violently, almost spilling with precious ambrosia he still held. Looking carefully around the table to make sure he was not being observed, the now-immortal king picked his empty wine goblet off the table and brought it down into his lap beside the glass of ambrosia. Glancing up every few moments he carefully poured the shimmering liquid into the sturdier (and comparatively plainer, though nothing on the god's table was less than beautiful) wine cup under the table, and with a quick movement of his hand, slipped the now half-full wine cup into the depths of his pocket.

Placing both hands back on the table, alongside the empty glass, Tantalus stared quietly at the wood between his fingers and tried not to think of what might happen were he to be caught with the coveted drink of the gods in his pocket. It was forbidden to remove the precious liquid from Olympus, or to give it to any but those sanctioned by Zeus himself, but Tantalus could think only of his wife and child; of rewarding the faithful sipylene people who had given him this opportunity with the same gift he himself had been granted.

A gentle touch to his arm made the young king start, and he looked up from the table to see all eyes had turned once again to Zeus... who in turned was staring straight at Tantalus. He froze in terror that he had been caught already, but quickly noticed that, far from appearing angry, the Lord of the sky was watching patiently, one hand raised as if keeping the other deities silenced in preparation for a speech. The god's gaze drifted over the other feasters for a moment, and then, "Tantalus?"

The weight of the cup in his pocket seemed to increase exponentially as Zeus' eyes swept back to the young king, and Tantalus trembled, clasping his hands before him. His throat grew suddenly dry as the god seemed to await a response to an unasked question. Fearing that the god could read his deceit in his eyes, Tantalus bowed his head and sought desperately for something with which to distract the famously tetchy god.

"My Lord," he began, "Such a glorious feast has been laid before me, I cannot think of words to express my thanks at your generosity." (Here, Tantalus glanced hastily round at all of the seated gods and goddesses, knowing that each would take his grovelling as directed at them; proud as they were.) "Thus all I can do if offer a seat at my humble table in the White Palace of Sipylus, and hope that it may carry at least a portion of my gratitude." Keeping his head low, Tantalus risked a glance up at Zeus, still lounging sideways in his throne, and breathed a sigh of relief when the golden-haired god inclined his head in acquiescence.

However, to the mortal's barely concealed horror, a sudden snort came from the far side of table. Dionyus had roused from his slumber and leant, blinking, towards the mortal king.

"What’s this? A feast?" A drunken giggle issued from the god of wine's lips.

"Yes, my Lor--" began Tantalus, eager to have found a topic with which this god at least was sure to be agreeable to. But before he could finish, a delicate girl at the god's side and gave a snort of her own

"Ha! And how shall this mortal feed us? With the ragged cuts of beasts that feed on filth and wallow in mud?" she smirked and turned a gimlet-eye on Tantalus, "We are gods, and yet you would deign to serve us?"

Dionysus stared at her, while around the table murmurings began. Mud...earth-beasts... fit for mortals alone... Enraged at this slight upon his city, Tantalus' anxiety melted away and he sprang to his feet.

"Oh, great Lords and Ladies, it is true that mortal fare cannot be comparable to the delights of Olympian kitchens, but in honour of your attendance I shall strive to serve the most sumptuous, the most precious and perfect meat that may be found upon the globe, if only you would grace my table with your presence."

He gave a sweeping bow to as much of the room as he could physically manage and silently blessed the silver tongue which had helped him out of more than one tight spot on Earth, as the surrounding deities smirked and preened at his address, each one smugly agreeing to attend the feast Tantalus had promised.

 

After the feast was finished, Tantalus wandered home in a daze; Hermes having deposited him once more at the gates of the white city. The city slept before him, lit only by the lamps of the waiting (no night-watchmen were needed in Sipylus; peace reigned supreme for the people and crime was unheard of in this piece of earth-bound heaven). Still the wine goblet hung heavy in his coat pocket, knocking gently against his leg as he walked over the clean cobbles, an iron grey sky above on the cloudy night, and as the young king walked in silence through the darkened streets, his fear returned. 

Always his thoughts turned to how he could help his people, his family and those he loved, but now he feared that he couldn’t live up to the things he had promised the gods, those oaths of perfection he had made with such belief in all the Sipylus could accomplish; that it could rival the very realm of the gods? What was he thinking?! 

In the middle of the street he sank to his knees in despair and his hands shook as he clasped his head: what could he do? The mocking tones of Discord rang in his ears as he thought back and all he could see before his eyes was her smirking face.

That lying tongued serpent, he thought. I’ll show her, 'Discord', justly named. I will live up to my promise; there must be something within my realm that can be given to the gods, not in shame but in pride.The most precious food to me shall be most delicious, but what can it be?

He rose once again to his feet, and trudged onwards, now in the upper slopes of the mountain; the towers of his castle glittering in the predawn light before him, and Tantalus sighed painfully at the beauty of his home.

But as he passed though the gates pondering the question he had been heckled by every step of his homeward journey, his spirits lifted, for there, running down the tree lined path to greet him was his favoured son: Pelops. Tantalus had other sons, more gifted, more wise, but his favourite was Pelops, for the young boy's beauty, not yet a man, shone like the stars in the sky, as he were a gift from the gods themselves..

Tantalus’s thoughts stopped in their tracks and he froze in horror at his own realisation as his beloved child flung himself joyfully into the young king's arms. This was his most precious thing; the most choice creature not only within the realm of Sipylus but upon the surface of the earth. Was he then required to sacrifice his own child to the gods' table?

Tantalus stared down at his son’s ebony curls in despair; this must not be so... but what if the gods already KNEW of this fact? Perhaps that was why Discord had believed he could not serve them so choice a dish, because he had not the stomach to gift them what was most precious to him (Discord's tenacious grip tightened on his soul).

No. The punishment, the torture that might be inflicted upon his people, his wife; the beautiful Dione, and his other children would be wrathful indeed if he deceived the gods in this too (Discord's words filled the cup in his pocket and its weight almost brought the young king's knees to the ground where he stood).

He had already broken one of the most emphatic rules of Olympus and taken the drink of the gods from their own table. But now, perhaps they would forgive him if he could prove his loyalty in this promise: hold his oath above all. Tantalus was in agony, but as he gathered his beaming child in his arms, he knew what he must do (In the darkness of her hellish realm, Discord smiled).

\------------------------ 

That night, as Pelops slept, his father smothered the boy, and then, tears dripping down his cheeks, sliced the ivory flesh into tiny pieces, before boiling the meat in a huge cast iron cauldron. The flesh of a pure human soul is said to be a fine delicacy, and from the great bowl, the most delicious smell emerged, filling the halls of the white castle of Sipylus as the Gods of Olympus gathered in the dining chamber for the promised feast. 

Zeus took his place at the head of the table as guest of honour and the king of the Gods and watched, a small frown marring his handsome face as the others were seated. Lady Demeter continued to mourn her missing daughter loudly, while Hermes had excused himself from the feast in order to descend to the Underworld to request the flower goddess Persephone's return from Hades, casting lingering dark mood over the remaining Olympians.

The spread that Tantalus, desperate to please, laid before them was indeed sumptuous; sweet oil-dipped vine leaves wrapped about rice and fish, wine made from sun-kissed grapes, fish fattened on shrimp and saltwater; and in pride of place at the centre of the enormous table, the gleaming pot containing (unknown to the diners) the white flesh of the boy-child, Pelops. Tantalus served his guests with aptitude and discretion, offering to the weeping Demeter the choice cut; Pelops' left shoulder. Wiping her tears from her fine eyes the Harvest goddess, whom in her torment over her own child had not eaten for many days, lifted the sweet-smelling meat to her lips and took a bite, smiling through her watery gaze in appreciation of the taste, while Tantalus let out a sigh of relief (though his heart clenched painfully inside).

Suddenly a hand reached between the auburn-haired lady and the immortal King and lifted what remained of the shoulder joint from her grasp. Demeter turned in bemusement to watch as Zeus deposited the meat back into the cauldron and handed the entire pot to Fate, his normally blue eyes dark with emotion. Tantalus could only watch in horror as the cauldron began to boil again though it sat only on the cool wooden table before the pale form of destiny. At the lord of the sky's wordless gesture, Fate called each piece forth from the bubbling water and, as the Gods and Goddesses watched, her magic stitched bone and skin and muscle together once more. But her resurrection came up short, for she could not join the left arm; the shoulder was part-gone.

Demeter gasped, "A child?!" her eyes began to fill with fresh tears. "Poor innocent...." She lifted the ivory plate she had used from the table and laid it against the pale, unmoving torso that hovered - captured by Fate's power - above the pot, and in her hands the solid bone moulded into the smooth curve of a new shoulder, to which Fate gratefully stitched the left arm.

"It is done." Fate's voice whispered through the silent hall as her opaque eyes turned to face the sky-Lord, who stood by with a deep frown now settled on his features.

Zeus nodded and waved a broad hand over the closed eyes of the boy-child that lay still on the table. A moment passed, and then with a gasp that echoed from the high ceiling, Pelops jolted upright, a hand flying up to his throat as if reaching to pull away a suffocating grasp. His sight cleared and the boy stared 'round in astonishment at the gathering. Demeter, momentarily distracted from her woe, was reaching forward to hug him, while the other Gods stared in amazement at the obvious care with which the earth had created this beautiful child. The only gaze around the hall that was not following Pelops' every move was that of Zeus, whose stormy glance had settled in fury upon the Father of this destruction. Tantalus tore his eyes from his living - breathing! - Son and shrunk suddenly in terror at the rage in the sky-God's expression.

Zeus' voice echoed like the justice of the Heavens, "Tantalus! Pitiful, cowering man; fool and charlatan; thief of the food of the Gods; thief of life, of purity and innocence! Never have my gifts been so disrespected! “The God seemed to grow as his anger filled the cavernous hall and even the other Gods pulled back, shielding the shaking Pelops with them as they retired. Zeus ignored them, focused only upon the tiny king of Sipylus prostrate on the ground at his feet. He raised a hand and made a sweeping motion in distain. 

"If my generosity is so worthless, then I see nothing of yours is worth a place within my domain. Let all your kind be banished for your folly." 

The king of the Gods turned on his heel, his cloak of clouds lifting him into the winged chariot that had borne him down to Sipylus, and as the flaming horses' hooves struck sparks from the white floors of the hall, the great slabs beneath the unshod feet cracked wide open. Tantalus found himself tumbling into burning darkness; a gaping chasm formed and the entire city began to crumble out of sight; its people running in panic as their homes and possession were swallowed by the encroaching hell.

 

\----------------------

 

Tantalus sank to his knees, sitting deep beneath the earth. Punishment eternal was with him now, created and endorsed by the king of the gods himself.

The branches of the fine fruit tree stretched far above him, and among the glossy green leaves, brilliant red apples in soft waxy skin shone in the light of Tartarus's deep glow. Around his ankles flowed the crystal clear waters of a gentle stream, the fresh smell of each droplet tantalising his senses. But whenever he reached above his head, the branches bearing their delicious gifts would twist, as if sentient, away from his grasp so that not a morsel could ever reach his fingertips, let alone touch his dry lips, and when Tantalus knelt at the roots and cupped his hands to take a mouthful of the glittering water at his feet, the swift flowing stream would recede just as quickly before him into the ground so that not even the dampness of the river bed remained. Thus it was that he would remain; forever tortured by his eternal hunger and thirst, never dying (for Tartarus was a land of life amidst the hell) and yet never to be satisfied. 

One who thinks to fool the gods is a fool himself.

**Author's Note:**

> The decanter used by Zeus is called a Tantalus because it shows you whats there, but is locked shut, and thus "tantalises".
> 
> Dione (not technically a goddess in this legend, but shares the name of one of the minor pleides)  
> Hermes (messenger & god of travellers & thieves[ like tantalus!]),   
> Zeus (god of thunder/the sky and king of the other gods),   
> Dionysus (god of wine, parties & merriment),   
> Ariadne (goddess [though mortal in some legends] of weaving, wife of Dionysus, & one of the few greek goddesses who remained faithful to her husband),   
> Demeter (goddess of harvest, mother of Persephone)  
> Aphrodite (goddess of beauty and love)  
> Hades (god of the underworld, and husband-to-be of the kidnapped persephone)  
> Ganymede (cupbearer to zeus, like dione he's not a god, but an immmortal human. often said to be a zeus' lover in most legends)  
> Eris (minor goddess of discord & chaos)


End file.
